


Angela the Ultimate Wingwoman

by Costumebleh, Snowsheba



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Collaboration, M/M, NOT a love triangle because those are not fun, also not polyamory not because it's not fun but because angela is ace and uninterested, and angela is like "how are people this dumb", and gabe is just taking a fucking sips babes, and then realize they're trying to impress each other, in which genji and jesse fight over angela
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-18 00:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9352349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Costumebleh/pseuds/Costumebleh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowsheba/pseuds/Snowsheba
Summary: Genji and Jesse fight for Angela’s affections. Sadly, they’re both pathetically unobservant.





	

**Author's Note:**

> featuring genji shimada as repressed nerd, gabriel reyes as the voice of reason, and introducing jesse mccree as himself
> 
> (this is of questionable quality because most of it was written late at night while costumebleh and i were screaming ideas at each other. costumebleh and i switched off every paragraph, then every three paragraphs, and then every other five to seven paragraphs.)

It’s an undeniable truth that in time, all Overwatch personnel eventually develop a crush on the beautiful and yet fiercely intimidating medic, holing herself away in the medbay. They always interact with her in their most unraveled and vulnerable state, with blood, guts and various states of consciousness present. So, of course, when waking up and seeing the gentle Angela standing above them like a guardian angel, there is little else they can do than just let it happen.

Genji Shimada may be a cyborg, but he is certainly no exception to the rule. More than others, in fact: Angela has seen him at his most vulnerable, back when he was literally nothing but a dead man waiting to die. Perhaps that is what makes him most suited for her, at least in his mind - she knows him far better than anyone else in his life, and that trust extends both ways, or at least he likes to think so. Thus no one is surprised when he disappears for a short bit of time and returns with a bouquet of flowers. Everyone, from Strike Commander Morrison to Commander Reyes, has seen this song and dance before, so no one even bothers to ask who they’re for.

What’s far more interesting, however, is that Jesse McCree  _ also _ has a bouquet of flowers, and that is where the complications begin to arise.

It’s a silent staredown, wherein McCree nor the trained assassin move an inch, both of them standing stubbornly in front of the medbay. Genji’s attention strays slightly to the beautiful gathering of flowers held in the gunslinger’s hand, noticing that only a few actually convey of any sort of romantic attraction. Meanwhile, Genji’s own were very carefully picked out, feelings of “love” clearly displayed in the many ways flowers could speak. 

However, he has to admit that, compared to the other, his is pitiful-looking. There is no grandeur in his arrangement, no intense clash of colors, all in various shades of pink and red and making the idea behind quite obvious in its own way. His relies on untold promises and hopeful wishes for the medic to take the time to look more than twice while working, and perhaps seeking out the meanings - if not already previously known. McCree’s is wild and beautiful and  _ alive _ in a way that Genji’s isn’t, and, well, it looks better than his, just in general.

No, he thinks; he’s come this far, and he’s certainly not going to lose courage to some backwater country boy who can’t go a day without mouthing off at their superior officer. His bouquet may look nicer, but Genji put his heart into his own, and Angela would see that. She always understood him, and with that in mind, he tilts his visor in McCree’s direction, a silent challenge, and then darts into the medbay before the cowboy can move.

“Who - oh, Genji, hello!” Angela says, looking up from her desk. She looks tired, but she still finds a smile for him as she swipes blond hair from her eyes. He ignores how his heart flutters at the sight of it. “Are you alright? Do you need me to check up on something?”

“No, I’m fine, Dr. Ziegler,” he says, and then he sticks his hand out, offering the bouquet to her, and says, “I just thought that you might like these.”

Okay, wow, that delivery was  _ terrible _ . He should’ve thought that through a little bit more, but too late, the damage is done. Not that it matters; Angela’s blue eyes light up at the sight of the flowers, and she takes them with a small degree of what Genji thinks - hopes - is reverence. “I can tell you put a lot of thought into them,” she says, and Genji tries not to puff out his chest. He  _ knew _ the good doctor would understand. “Thank you. They’re lovely.”

“Now hold on,” McCree says from the door, and Genji turns to him. The gunslinger is lucky that he can’t see the scowl sent his way, honestly, especially since Angela looks just as cheery and happy to see McCree as she was to see Genji. “I got you something too, doc.”

“Well, look at that. How nice to see you too, Jesse!” The smile that is given to the cowboy makes something uncomfortable twist deep beneath Genji’s synthetic breastbone, and he watches with a small degree of trepidation as McCree, in turn, offers his bouquet to Angela. She takes them with the same grateful smile and the same, kind “Thank you, they’re lovely,” that she had given Genji, and a part of him burns. He was so sure Angela liked him like he liked her, but this - pokes some holes in his hypothesis. “I’ll put them in a vase right away.”

She puts both bouquets in the same vase, as it turns out, further diminishing any hope Genji might have harbored that he was as special to her as she was to him. The same can be said of McCree, judging by the cowboy’s bland expression, and then she waves them out of the room without further ado. 

And, from that point onwards:  _ it is on. _

Despite that, Genji is quite unsure how to proceed from this disappointing result. His initial hopes had been telling of a scenario run through in his head, with Angela accepting his flowers and thus accepting his love and everything would’ve had a chance of playing out from that moment onwards. Instead, he receives no clear sign of the medic even sharing a small portion of the same affection and instead now has a meddling cowboy to compete with. 

In battle, he’s been taught to throw in all tools at his disposal to ensure victory - and he intends to do just _ that _ .

* * *

The training range is almost never empty, even in the dead of night. Old soldiers who can’t sleep enjoy having something repetitive and - against all odds - relaxing thing to do when the nightmares come, and Genji isn’t old but he has the nightmares for it, so. Here he is, clock striking midnight, tiredly and absently tossing out shuriken after shuriken and hitting each target where it hurts.

Naturally, it’s when he’s lying on his back on the floor, completely out of energy but too scared to sleep and let the dreams come in, throwing a shuriken at a target and missing by a mile, that the door opens.  _ Naturally _ , it’s Angela, poking her head in and calling to him, “Genji, you should really get some rest.”

She doesn’t really wait around long enough for him to respond, which is - odd, and he pushes himself up and to a seat and discovers, to his immediate displeasure and with a twist in his gut, McCree standing just outside the door, chatting to Angela. It’s  _ not fair _ and Genji knows that he’s lost to McCree, given the smug look thrown his way, and then Angela huffs and says, “Fine, I’ll watch, but on the condition that the both of you will get some rest after you’re done.”

In saunters the gunslinger, in all his ridiculous glory, chaps, spurs and his blanket around the shoulders. Genji recalls that the other agent had mentioned the correct name of the garment at some point, but he cares too little to dig in his memory for the information. 

“Up and at it, Shimada,” McCree is almost standing right by his side, keeping a hand on top of his stupid hat and grinning wickedly down at Genji, who, at that moment internally curses his lesser height. “We’re gonna show our angel who’s the real man in this little showdown of ours.”

“You are naught but an obstacle.” Genji’s reply might’ve been winded if his mechanical body had been capable of such a thing, but he mainly just sounds bored. Bored and annoyed at the timing the cowboy had, when hours of restlessness presses against his nerves and he doesn’t remember the last time he had a real meal. But backing out means defeat, accepting that this stupid - he can’t come up with a satisfying insult. Considering his odds, they are small, he is so, so tired, but Angela is worth the effort. The butterflies shimmering around in his limbs are worth it. And showing the haughty comedian who truly is worth of courting the medic is  _ definitely _ worth it. 

“What’s the matter, too worn out?” McCree says, and damn it all, Genji hadn’t realized how transparently tired he was.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead again,” Genji replies, a little too flat to be an actual insult, and he pushes himself to his feet. His body doesn’t actually register his exhaustion - it’s mostly in his head - so his reflexes should still be sharp. Still, the fact his mind is weary doesn’t bode well, and he follows McCree down to where the row of ‘bots are set up.

“Jesse will go first, and then Genji, and then I want you both back in your quarters and  _ sleeping _ ,” Angela says firmly, though she conveniently doesn’t mention that she should probably be sleeping as well. Genji notices, but doesn’t say anything; she’d probably just get mad at him, and that would mean McCree wins. “Honestly, I don’t know why you think it’s a good idea to practice this late at night.”

McCree says nothing, just smirks in Genji’s direction and looks out to the targets. There are five of them, all in a row, and at Angela’s cue, the ‘bots start moving about haphazardly in the small course set out for them. Genji already knows what’s coming; he’s heard about Deadeye from other recruits. He’s never seen it in person, though, and he watches with, admittedly, a lot of interest as McCree studies the ‘bots, eyes narrowing and hand hovering over his stupid revolver.

And then, Genji blinks, McCree mutters, “ _ Draw _ ,” and the targets all fall with a neat bullet to the head. It’s over before Genji even realizes it’s happened, before he can even wonder how the cowboy had done it, but then McCree gives him a look that screams  _ bet you can’t do better _ and it. Is.  _ On _ .

When Angela walks over to reset the course, making the bots reappear and take up the same start-position before launching into movement, Genji takes a small moment to just stand and stare at the cowboy, before raising his chin in taunt and then disappearing out onto the track in a blur of movement. 

Shurikens fly as his body instinctively ducks and weaves between obstacles, taking out three of the ‘bots mid-leap and undoubtedly spending a lot more time than the gunslinger. But this is not a timed challenge, it’s a show of skill, and Genji intends to do exactly that. 

After having taken out the fourth and moving on to the final bot, unaware of its incoming demise, he takes a millisecond of a chance to look back at his audience, first noting the tired complexion of the medic, and, to his surprise, McCree looking positively awestruck, sharp eyes trained on Genji. The attention startles him, shaking his resolve, and makes his step unsure; this was the intended result was it not? Then why does he feel less pride and more a growing heat traveling up his cheeks, a following need to hide away from the prying eyes of the gunslinger following his every movement? 

And as he takes another swift dash forward, his attention now fully diverted from his original goal, he crashes into a wall he hadn’t even registered towering up in front of him. The unfortunate meeting of his enhanced body and the wall is loud, and Genji feels a sharp, jarring pain in his skull.

From one moment to another, he’s back onto his feet, now accompanied by a steadily growing ache in his skull and a ringing in his ears as he presses a palm in front of the slit in his visor permitting light to be filtered through to his eyes. He doesn’t speak, just throws out his arm to aim a final shuriken at the bot without much thought behind the movement. It goes down without a problem. In a way, Genji is glad for the bone-deep weariness in his mind, because the embarrassment doesn’t really manage to come to life. He’s just tired at this point. 

Walking over to their starting position, he avoids eye contact with the duo undoubtedly staring at him, with one worried and one mocking, he’s sure of it. Instead, he merely keeps a hand pressed to his head and mutters, “I am going to go rest now.”

“How long have you been  _ up _ ?” 

Surprisingly, it’s not Angela who says this - it’s McCree, and that is when Genji chances a glance up, curious, somewhat cautious, and the heat on his cheeks has yet to go away when he sees that McCree looks a little concerned, past the smugness of his expression at least. 

“A while,” Genji answers. He’s not about to tell some nobody that he hasn’t slept for - he’s not even sure how long it’s been, actually. That’s... not good, probably, and he’s not really thinking about it when he shoots back, “Why, what’s it to you?”

“You just ran into a wall.” Yes, he had. He should probably be embarrassed about that, but given that his head is killing him and he’d much rather fall onto a bed rather than the floor, he can’t be bothered. “You don’t need to be so defensive.”

“Stop talking. Leave me alone.”

“Wow, okay, sorry for bein’ nice, I guess.”

“Not like you care,” Genji mutters. “You’d sooner shoot me.”

“You’d be dead where you stand if I did that.”

Angela takes advantage of the slight pause to jump in; she looks like she’d been wanting to for a while, and Genji had almost completely forgotten she was there, and for some reason, now he could hardly care less as she begins, “Both of you, this is completely - ”

“I am awake enough to respond to a bullet,” Genji snaps back. “Leave me  _ alone _ .”

McCree reaches down slowly, the revolver slipping into his hand with the ease of long practice, and he says, “Oh, really.”

“So shoot me,” Genji deadpans. He doesn’t care anymore, doesn’t bother listening to Angela’s words, and McCree doesn’t seem interested in them, either. “See if you’re right.”

Angela’s eyes blaze a furious blue as she hisses, “Jesse, don’t you  _ dare  _ \- ”

McCree casually aims his revolver at Genji and pulls the trigger, and the resounding gunshot is loud and reverberating. Genji doesn’t think, he merely  _ acts _ ; from the shock on McCree’s face, he hadn’t actually expected a bullet ( _ someone hasn’t been counting their shots _ , Genji thinks distantly) and Genji’s sword whispers out of its sheath, angles just so to ricochet the bullet away, and is back in its place before Genji can tell himself that  _ dodging the bullet _ was probably the better idea. Too little, too late; McCree lets out a choking sound when the bullet lodges itself into his shoulder, and just like that, Genji feels more awake then he has in days, perhaps weeks.

He’s across the small distance between him and McCree in less than a second, catching the gunslinger as his knees buckle and lets out a groan at the pain. Angela is over them both in another, cursing that she hadn’t thought ahead and brought her staff, but just grabs the hem of her own shirt to tear a strip to press against the bleeding wound,  _ a stupid mistake _ , she mutters under her breath as she tightens the strip. 

The next moments pass in blur to Genji, with Angela harshly ordering him to help support McCree before he passes out and make sure that he arrives to the medical bay before the “ _ idiotic cowboy _ ” bleeds to death. The next thing his receptors registers is Angela running ahead, to ready the necessary tools as Genji hears himself apologize repeatedly to the gunslinger, all the while the very same man is laughing at something; himself, their situation, an enigma that Genji doesn’t quite catch onto since his mind is starting to shut down while red seeps through the makeshift bandage. 

Finally, without Genji having to half-carry the much larger man, they arrive to a flurry of activity, all stemming from the angry medic that continues to swear up a storm at herself and the two fools lingering in her doorway to  _ get moving and place their stupid behinds on the beds, so she can fix this entire dumb situation. _

And before Genji registers it, he blacks out. Despite the pain in his skull, the gunslinger laying on the bed to the left of him and the continued scoldings flowing from the very woman he’d hoped to impress, his mind is out like a light. 

He wakes up to darkness in the medbay and a sleeping gunslinger at his side. It’s quiet, save for the hum of machines, and his head doesn’t hurt as he turns his neck to peer at McCree’s prone form. He’s young, Genji realizes dimly; the same age as Angela, the same age as  _ him _ , and he reacts to being shot by laughing. He only knows bits and pieces of who McCree used to be, but - even he would have been a bit more hysterical if he’d been shot in the shoulder, a place where a bullet could be fatal. 

But he had laughed. And he had been impressed by Genji’s acrobatics, too, and in his sleep, he looked less cocky and more - lonely, maybe. Genji has always been good with words, but the more he stares, the more he finds himself at a loss. He’d goaded McCree into shooting him not to impress Angela - he’d done it just because he could. But that seems too simple; he’d seen McCree’s uncanny and unnerving aim, and knowing that, he had  _ asked _ McCree to shoot him. 

That probably says something unfortunate about him personally, on the one hand. On the other, he’s impressed McCree took the shot at all. And even more, he’s impressed with McCree’s skill, and he can’t figure out why McCree being impressed at him in turn makes his chest tighten and tear his eyes away from the gunslinger’s face. He can guess, obviously, but there’s  _ no way _ it could be anything other than rivalry, given how they’re both fighting for Angela’s affection. And yet, and yet.

Fortunately, no one can see where he’s looking, and when he next falls asleep, the last image in his mind is that of McCree’s face.

* * *

The incident is luckily something none of the involved parties ever speak of again. It allows Genji to ponder on his next move, while the thought of one-upping McCree doesn’t bring the same burning satisfaction as before, there is no doubt that the ninja won’t let someone as perfect as Angela be with a person such as the gunslinger. 

It hits him one morning, with him having timed it to sit and spend some time with Angela as she eats her breakfast, quietly chatting away, that the apparent next step is taken by the other agent. As McCree, in all his unruly glory, walks unabashedly into the kitchen without as much as a shirt on. And before Genji can make himself tear his gaze away, he notes, to his embarrassment, that McCree is  _ very _ muscular. With this sort of move, there is no way that Angela won’t feel something or another for the gunslinger, and Genji prepares himself to see the same heat on the medic's face as his own. 

Instead, he is greeted by Angela breaking into  _ laughter _ . 

It’s not the timid and gentle giggle that you’ll usually hear from the known figurehead. It’s unseeming and she is even snorting a little as she takes a second look at the form that McCree is sporting. Shaking with mirth and snorting, Angela raises one unsteady finger and points to the lower part of McCree’s back. 

“Is that - a  _ tramp stamp _ ?” which, without further ado, makes Genji take a second glance at the - now reddening, agent. Indeed, there is, just above where his hips dip past the rim of his pants, a very detailed tattoo resting against tanned skin. 

McCree is turning very quickly into something that could rival a tomato, balking at Angela’s comment. “Now just hold on a minute Angel, you’ve seen this body in all its glory hundreds of times and you ain’t seen my beauty mark?” 

“ _ Beauty mark -  _ ” Angela snorts again and just barely manages to squeak out the word. Finally, she seemingly gives in and just laughs. 

Genji has absolutely no idea how to take this. He has no idea what to  _ do _ in this situation, either, and in the end he just sits there, completely dumbfounded, until McCree finally turns his gaze onto him and says, in a tone that indicates a challenge, “Like what you see?”

If Genji had been drinking something, he would’ve spewed it all over the table. As it stands, he can’t actually eat often, so instead he’s stuck with saying nothing, too shell-shocked to do anything at all. This - nothing was going according to plan. He had managed to sit down with Angela and talk with her a bit, granted, but then McCree had waltzed in  _ shirtless _ and he made Angela laugh, actually Angela was still laughing, and then he turns around and he’s -

_ He’s flirting with  _ me, Genji realizes, and then,  _ no, that can’t be right _ . McCree had done this to get Angela’s attention and it had worked, and that should be it, but then this happened and -

McCree’s smile is fading slightly as time marches on, Angela’s laughter petering into giggles and finally snickers as she stuffs part of a pancake into her mouth, occasionally muttering  _ beauty mark  _ to herself before letting out more giggles, and Genji, after a moment, stands up from the table. He is very,  _ very _ glad that his visor is in place, and after a long second of consideration, he decides that he wouldn’t let McCree win this round, even if he had no idea what exactly the round was.

“I see a lot of stupid, which is hardly likeable,” Genji says, which admittedly isn’t the best thing he could’ve said, but it’s hard to think of anything better where there’s so much rattling in his recently-healed skull, when he’s staring at McCree’s abs and  _ stop looking.  _ Stop  _ looking _ . “Thank you for the company, Angela.”

Angela gives him a wave, still laughing too hard to muster a proper response, and when he walks out of the kitchen, a plan begins to take shape in his mind. He won’t let McCree win, that much he knows for sure, and - well, he might not have his real body, but he won’t let that stop him.

He knows exactly what could top McCree’s stunt and digs through his closet immediately the moment he returns to his quarters. But, he rescinds, he has to time it right. Doing it right after McCree would undoubtedly show that he felt intimidated, which is not the intended result. 

So, with all the patience he’d failed to preserve during his youth, he waits. 

After a few days, Genji supposes that enough time has passed and prepares himself to make an impression. Donning a pair of loose sweatpants that sway just around his hips, he slips a scrap of a top over his head to look more as a decoration over the armor of his chest. Taking one final look, he finds that it might’ve been more effective if he didn’t wear his visor, but there is no alternative since he doesn’t feel comfortable with anybody but Angela seeing his face at the present time. 

So with all the best and hopeful intentions, he sets out to find the medic. At this time of day she should be near either the canteen or the common rooms, socializing in some way or another. To his luck, it’s the latter that proves to be true, Angela sits together with Commander Reyes and is chatting idly while nursing a cup of tea. 

When he raises his hand to wave at the commander, he manages to catch Angela’s attention at the same time. Both stare at him, shocked, for a moment, seemingly processing his appearance. 

It’s Angela who first recovers. “Genji, are you - ?”

“Commander, I need a favor,” Genji says, directing the words to his superior officer. Commander Reyes raises an eyebrow, but, as Genji had guessed, he’s curious enough to humor him for now. “I need you to get McCree in here.”

“Jesse?” Angela says, a little startled, but there’s a calculating gleam to her eye and Genji wonders, for a split second, what for. Not long enough to really think about it, because he has other things on his mind, honestly.

“I mean, I could,” Commander Reyes says, propping his chin on his elbow. He’s grinning, though, as he says, “What’s in it for me?”

“Entertainment,” Angela says before Genji can speak, and she gives Genji a small smirk of a smile. “Just do it, Gabriel.”

Commander Reyes rolls his eyes and taps a finger to his ear, activating his comm. “McCree. Lounge. Now.” He listens for a bit, and then says, “I don’t care if you’re cleaning your gun or washing your serape or moping in your room, get your ass here or you’re grounded from your mission tomorrow.” With that, he taps the comm again, looking smug, and Genji can only blink in shock; he hadn’t expected it to be that easy, but then again, he hadn’t expected the Commander to be here, either. “Should be a couple of minutes. This better be good, Shimada.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Angela says, and if Genji wasn’t suspicious before, he certainly is now. Still, he doesn’t feel confident enough voicing his thoughts to her with Commander Reyes around, and there’s not enough time to think about it in any case; his heightened senses pick up the sound of McCree’s spurs soon enough, and he takes a moment to run through the Plan one more time before he enters.

The Plan is, of course, immediately derailed when McCree walks in, saying, “Alright, I’m here, what’s - ” while Commander Reyes pretends he’s occupied with a datapad as Angela says, “Genji, are you wearing  _ clothes _ ?”

And then McCree is of course staring straight at Genji, like a deer caught in the headlights as Genji sees his eyes first mark the top and then further the low dip of the sweats. But before Genji even manages to spit out anything like that one-liner McCree had shot his way, the gunslinger turns a bright red - even rivalling the one the last time they saw each other - and chokes. 

Trying to be somewhat casual and have the upper hand in this situation, Genji decides that instead of flirting, he should answer Angela’s question.

So, shrugging and walking a little closer, making sure to make it so that his hips sway slightly, once again catching McCree’s eye, he leans against the side of the booth. “Yes Angela, I am. Is there something else you would like to point out?” Genji knows that he’s maybe feeling a bit too smug about making the gunslinger redden rather than impressing Angela, but at the same time satisfaction burns in his chest like he has gained the upper hand somehow. Not at all caused by his need for recognition from the gunslinger. 

Well at the very least until Angela throws him a knowing look and reaches up to tug at the loose edge of the shirt, “You  _ never _ wear any clothes; care to tell me what the special occasion is?”

Evidently, he doesn’t know what to say to that, it’s not like he can spew the truth of:  _ I wanted to impress McCree and maybe score some of the points back that he took last time I saw him. _ No, that would be stupid, so he just stills for a moment, feeling the weighted gaze of the two conspirators sitting at the table, knowing that he doesn’t have a coherent answer for that. Worst of all is the confused and slightly heated gaze of McCree, burning into his back and making his thoughts falter slightly. 

_ No _ . He would win. He had to, at this point, both to redeem himself and also not embarrass himself completely in front of his commanding officer. His mind processed things far faster than most, and he knew it had hardly been a second before he answers, “I figured  _ someone  _ should be impressed. Why have all kinds of clothes like this in my closet and never wear them?”

He pretends not to notice McCree’s hard exhale. Commander Reyes certainly takes note, eyes flicking first to Genji and then to the cowboy, and Angela purses her lips, suppressing a smile as she says, “All kinds of clothes like this, huh? I’m surprised you don’t wear them more often. You look very good in them - don’t you think, Jesse?”

(This is when Genji decides: he  _ never _ wants to be on Angela’s bad side.)

McCree has recovered enough at this point that he doesn’t sound completely flustered as he agrees, “I do,” and then, just like that, “What did you want me for, Commander?”

It’s either a deflection or a dismissal; Genji knows from McCree’s previous reaction that it’s the former, and Angela coughs into her fist to disguise a giggle as he makes a show of sitting down across from her and Commander Reyes. The Commander looks hardly amused save for the tiniest quirk to his lip, and he says to McCree, “Don’t worry about it. Shimada’s got this under control.”

McCree’s tone of voice clearly says  _ what the fuck _ as he says, “Did you reassign me to another mission, Reyes?”

“That’s  _ Commander _ to you, kid,” Commander Reyes says, and Genji can’t get a read on his tone, not exactly, as he adds, “And no; I reassigned him  _ to _ your mission. You two seem to work well enough together.”

“I’m sorry, ex - excuse me, I need to - ”

With that, Angela flees. She doesn’t quite make it out of the room before she breaks down into laughter, and McCree, when Genji spares a quick glance back, looks absolutely mortified. Flustered, red in the face, horrorstruck - yes, Genji decides, he’s definitely won this round, and he gives the Commander a quick nod of thanks before standing up. “I’ll go after her,” he tells Commander Reyes, and it’s only when the Commander nods that he takes his leave, aware of McCree’s eyes on him the whole while.

It won’t hit him until much,  _ much _ later that he’s going on a combat mission with McCree, and with Angela snickering at him when he finally finds her back in her medbay, he realizes this may be more problematic than first glance might indicate.

* * *

For a mission it’s supposed to be relatively simple in the strategic sense, or at least, that’s what Commander Reyes comments on when giving the briefing. The big trouble lies in the difficulty of the opponents, while not performing great experience or skill, they were in a much larger number than the agents assigned to take them down. No unnecessary killing, take as many prisoners as possible, and make sure that all other agents make it out of there alive. Those are the bare bones for the mission that Genji has been assigned to last-minute. 

There’s something else that Commander Reyes isn’t saying, though. Genji can tell by the glances people continually send McCree’s way, far too often to be unsuspicious. He supposes he’ll find the answer soon enough, but it doesn’t take long for him to be distracted; to the surprise of both him and McCree, Angela is also added to the roster within the last few moments before takeoff. 

Clad in her usual valkyrie suit, she sits at the very corner of the carrier, with only one available seat to her left. It’s within a few seconds that Genji locks eyes with McCree - as much as he can with his visor covering his line of sight - and a silent staredown starts. However, shortly, McCree startles and redirects his gaze, willingly giving up the seat. 

So it’s with some confusion and a slight lack of satisfaction that Genji sits down next to the medic. With her quickly asleep, all he can do to make his body rest is meditate, which he has had trouble with all his life and is likely to be unsuccessful, so he just accepts his fate of six hours of insomnia-driven staring into the air. 

But to his imminent surprise, McCree drops down in the seat next to him. Leaning back and with his hat tilting forwards as to shield his face from the bright lights above, Genji notices that the gunslinger himself is also showing signs of exhaustion, whereas his eyes sport bags and his posture speaks a whole language of its own. And it comes as a surprise that he’s actually worried about the other agent. 

“So,” McCree begins, and Genji is quick to cut him off. He’s not going to act on his worry; even now, the competition continues.

“There is no way we will be able to talk for six hours about nothing,” he says. “Do not even try.”

If McCree is offended, he does a good enough job hiding it. Instead he says mildly, “Really. You’re going to pull that card on me?”

That - is not the reaction Genji had expected. Then again, he’s expected a lot of things that haven’t happened these past few days, so he shouldn’t be surprised, but he is anyway. “Meaning?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

No, he wants to say, he doesn’t. The fact of the matter is that of course he does. He’s no stranger to flirting, knows seduction like the back of his hand (admittedly he’s a bit out of touch with both these days), and the competition between them has become less focused on Angela and more on each other. Whatever the situation might become, at the moment, it boils down to two simple facts. One: McCree had flirted with Genji first. 

And two: Genji had flirted back.

“Fine,” Genji says, because he’s sitting next to McCree and there’s nowhere else to go. It’s all Blackwatch around them, too, agents who don’t give a shit and would rather be anywhere else than here. Angela is fully asleep, Genji can tell by her breathing patterns (he had memorized those. Creepy, now that he’s thinking about it, but given he’s a cyborg ninja, perhaps that’s the least of his problems), so there’s no one important who might overhear. “But what is there to say? There’s no way she’ll ever like one of us.”

And that’s the truth, isn’t it - Angela likes them both well enough, but she won’t ever return their affections. The whole competition to win them had been petty at best, harmful at worst; hell, McCree had been  _ shot in the shoulder _ and Genji had gotten a concussion. Nothing to gain, a lot to lose, and it would do them both good to just let it go now before it got worse.

He knows that he’s conveniently avoiding the whole flirting thing, of course. He’s not sure whether he’s ready to think about that in earnest, but he remembers the flush to McCree’s cheeks and the way his drawl had come out low and smooth when he’d walked shirtless in the kitchen and - well.

“You know that’s not the point,” McCree says, and he isn’t wrong, but Genji sure as hell isn’t going to let him win.

“You tell me, Agent McCree,” he says, and then he makes a point of darkening his visor, stilling in the eerie way only an omnic could.

“What the - you don’t get to pull out of a conversation that easily, you - ”

Genji shuts off his auditory receptacles and sets up a timer on the corner of his vision. Only five hours, fifty-six minutes to go.

After a while, Genji hopes that McCree gave up his attempts and managed to get at least a bit of sleep, as the cyborg settles with just suffering in the vivid darkness of his own mind. Finally,  _ finally _ , they touch down at the assigned position and the agents start piling out of the disguised freighter. Whoever is leading yells some orders at the smaller Blackwatch cronies while Genji gently wakes up Angela and helps her get ready for the mission.   


If Genji is pointedly ignoring McCree, pretends that his heart doesn’t stutter as he feels the pressure of those brown eyes on his form. If he’d been human, back in his own body, he would’ve found it flattering, but now he wished for everything but that, not ready to face the questions as he tightens one last strap on the back of Mercy’s suit. 

It takes him a minute before he registers that Angela is speaking to him, and as he rises he finally permits his senses to fully return. 

When he stands, petite but worn hands catch his chin, worried eyes gazing into the depths of his visor. Angela is gentle as always as she asks, “Want me to keep an eye out?” There’s an added quirk of a raised eyebrow that indicated the presence behind Genji. Words spoken just low enough so that McCree would have no idea what she’d asked. 

“ _ Please _ ,” comes the timid reply. Genji is even more surprised with the request having actually been spoken, rather than the weak voice coming from his usually controlled self. All he knows is that there is an unresolved knot of tension sitting beneath his artificial ribs and it presses heavily upon his heart at the tension between him and the gunslinger. 

Angela, all grace, just nods and releases him to walk out of the ship, efficiently leaving the two remaining agent alone. Genji realizes this as a strong hand reaches forward to stop him, the very second he is about to bolt out and away from the questions, his hurt eyes,  _ him. _

But the touch makes Genji still, forcing his body to turn back to the other agent holding him back. He doesn’t know where to look, keeping his gaze fixed onto the billowing red of the  _ serape _ \- that’s what it was, Genji remembered. 

“Genji - ” and it’s with the calling of his name that he finally manages to meet McCree’s eyes. To his utter surprise, McCree is only sporting a sad smile, no anger, leaving Genji to stand and blank out entirely. “Keep yourself in one piece, ya hear?” 

Genji is aware that whatever decision he makes here is final, in the sense that this is a chance to accept - or reject - McCree’s tentative advances. He can’t even try to convince himself that he could do the latter without hating himself, without the inkling of the idea that he may have made a mistake, so he says, quite simply, “You, too.”

McCree’s smile widens, incrementally. Genji wishes, suddenly, that he could return it, and instead he reaches up and briefly rests his hand over McCree’s. Then he briskly breaks out of his hold, pivoting on his heel and darting out of the freighter with lights dimmed and feet skimming silently over the ground. Of course, he had completely missed the instructions the leading agent had given out, but that hardly mattered given his job never changed: harass from the flanks, don’t get hit, and retreat for medical aid as necessary. He’s always been more a guerilla fighter than a skirmisher, and all of Blackwatch knows this, too, so no one questions it when he takes off ahead of the crowd and disappears into the building they’re infiltrating.

The people inside are well-armed, he discovers. He doesn’t attack them directly - not yet - as he scrutinizes them, their armor, their guns. There are explosives attached to several sides of the building; they aren’t planning to give the place up without taking some down with them, Genji notes, and he further observes that everyone, down to the youngest member perhaps no older than fourteen, is carrying some kind of firearm. They’re desperate.

That’s bad, he knows. That means they’ll fight all the harder. That means that more Blackwatch agents are likely to die rather than not. But a mission is a mission, and with that in mind, Genji pinpoints what he thinks is a leader, or at least a leader, and takes aim. A quick flick of his wrist, a held breath, and then all hell breaks loose as the woman falls and those around her quickly react to the unseen threat. Their fault for keeping the place so dark, Genji thinks to himself, and he flings himself off of the wall and back outside to tell the squad leader what he’d seen without risking being overheard.

Naturally, he runs into McCree when he vaults over cover and then slams his back against it, quickly sinking down to a crouch.

“Seeing you so soon, darlin’?” comes the deep drawl by his side, sending a shiver down his spine, though he manages to suppress it, “guess you found somethin’ worth your while.” and then there’s bullets whizzing from above, forcing them both to drop further down behind their cover. 

McCree is so  _ close _ , and Genji is so very unsure if the bandits won’t be getting to him, this sort of talking surely will. So, as a precaution, he hisses at the gunslinger; “keep your head down and eyes aware, they have explosives, so anyone with a trigger must be taken down rather than captured.” 

In reply McCree just smiles at him, making butterflies flutter in his chest and the knot around his heart so much tighter. So he quickly makes sure to retreat back to tell the squad leader about the triggers and the change of situation, before rounding around the back of the building to scale and enter back into the darkness. This time, he sees several armed bandits shooting out from the already destroyed windows down at his team. 

He would later say that they had tried to take a shot at him. Afterall, he doesn’t want any unnecessary time wasted by having to deal with them alive. 

Taking the time to reload and assert the surrounding rooms, he judges there to be the majority of the bandits present nearby if there hadn’t been any hiding outside of the building when the whole spectacle began. He hesitates for a moment when considering this factor, but decides that the agents outside should be capable of removing those, and instead focuses on taking down those that are holding guns. Which, in the end, proves to be the majority. The few he actually bothers only to knock out look to be the remaining leaders, and since none of them sport the trigger meant to take down the building, he deems them safe enough to just incapacitate. 

At some point Angela flies to his side, Caduceus staff connecting a stream of warmth and nanobots to his system, and she snaps, “Genji, you are not following orders.”

“Duly noted,” Genji answers absently, eyes roving over those bandits that remain. Unwillingly, his gaze briefly lands on McCree, who’s carefully leaning out from behind a stack of boxes before raising his revolver and firing two, three shots in quick succession, reloading without looking at his hands. “Thank you, Dr. Ziegler.”

“Please be careful. Remember what you are supposed to do.” It’s as much of a scolding as she can fit in during this brief reprieve, and he nods and takes off to a sniper who had just gotten a perch on the roof, leaping onto the wall and snaking upwards as fast as his hands can carry him. The sniper is dispatched with a hard knock to the head, possibly hard enough to kill, not that he bothers to check; then it’s back down, a jump to avoid a few gunshots, a swift strike to make it behind cover again.

Their numbers - Blackwatch’s, he means - are still strong, as far as he can tell. One agent lies motionless further ahead, too far for Angela to reach without risking herself, and another is hobbling back to the ship. In the meantime, they’ve hardly made a dent in the bandit forces, and Genji can already sense the exhaustion permeating the air around him. They need to finish this quickly, and they would’ve had the bandits not had explosives. Since they do…

Genji almost startles out of his skin when McCree is suddenly next to him, having rolled over from the cover, and for once he looks withdrawn and serious as he says, “Genji, can I ask ya a favor?”

“Anything,” Genji says before he can think about it, and there’s no time to kick himself for it as McCree nods, gingerly poking his head up to take a look. His hat is still on his head, miraculously, and he ducks back down a moment later, rubbing his thumb against the hammer of his revolver.

“I need you to draw out one of the fellas with the explosives trigger,” he says. His brown eyes narrow slightly as he looks up from his gun. “We’re sittin’ ducks out here, and there’s only so much time before Deadlock gets off its ass and charges us. We gotta finish this quickly.”

“Deadlock?” Genji asks, one hand reaching back for his sword. He hasn’t verbally assented yet, but he knows exactly who he needs to target to do as McCree wishes.

“Used to run with ‘em. That’s why I’m here; I know their tactics.” McCree looks vulnerable, distant, just for a moment, and then it’s gone as soon as it had come. Genji wonders but doesn’t pry; not yet, at least. He himself had been sent after his own family, too; he can relate, perhaps better than McCree might expect. “Can you do it?”

“Of course,” Genji says, a little offended. “Where do you want them?”

“In my line of sight. I’ll stay here for now; I’m pinned anyway, since I don’t have your mobility.”

“Understood.”

“Genji,” McCree says before Genji actually moves, and now he looks sincere and, oddly, tired as he says, “Be careful.”

“Only if you are,” Genji replies easily, quirking his mouth into a grin before he remembers McCree can’t see it. “See you soon.”

“Lookin’ forward to it.”

There’s the low drawl again, warm and honey-like. Genji bites his lip to distract himself from the twist in his chest and, after a slow exhale, zips from behind cover and closer to the entrance of the building itself. He’d previously marked each bandit with a trigger before the assault began with his visor, and the closest one is - a younger woman, no older than twenty, handling an assault rifle like she’d been born holding one.

He lets himself feel remorse, just for a second, before sending a shuriken her way, just one that skids off of her body armor. It gets her attention, and he darts out of range as she turns her sights on him.

Dodging around the hail of bullets she fires at him is easy, keeping her attention, less so. There are a few shots that come a little too close and he is at a slight disadvantage since he cannot deflect any of her shots. 

Finally, they manage to reach the relatively open area where McCree will be able to take his shot. There is a lot gambling on this and Genji makes sure to keep her attention transfixed onto him with a few shurikens that manages to bite into the skin of her upper bicep. Her body language fixes over from calculative to angry, and her movements become more unpredictable. The trigger rests close to her hip, the lid firmly in place as not to be set off without it being planned. 

Assuring that McCree can get a lock onto the small canister, Genji ducks and weaves as he finally spots a familiar form stepping out from cover and carefully aiming at the young woman. But, despite her being at the wrong angle to see the sharpshooter, the bandit unexpectedly turns her attention over to McCree the very second that a bullet from the six-shooter fires, destroying the trigger. 

But there is a heartbeat where McCree has to re-focus from the small item to the person carrying it, and the woman manages to get three shots out before another bullet, now aiming to kill, catches her in the forehead. 

A moment of stillness, then; a quiet ringing in Genji’s skull as he sees the bullet hit McCree, sees him fall. It’s slow and lilting and dreamlike, and it takes a moment for Genji to register that the blast from the explosives have sent him flying, that his reflexes have allowed him to land lightly on his feet, that  _ McCree is down and isn’t getting up. _

Forgetting everything, Genji darts to the gunslingers side, reminiscent of their silly competition what seems like eons ago. This time however, he hadn’t managed to catch him, having stood there like some  _ idiot while the whole place went down _ . Panicked, he kneels by McCree, hastily removing the serape from the gunslingers shoulders, checking for injury. With him being knocked out, Genji fears the worst, but only finds a surface graze against the side of his skull. It’s a bit deep, but it seemed that the bullets had mostly missed his companion, but  _ why isn’t he waking up? _

Tears are gathering in half-dead canals, and he leans his head against McCree’s chest to make sure that his heart still beats. It is there, strong and regular, but he still feels fear well up in his throat at the prospect of something else having hit or damaged the gunslinger in the explosion. He then looks about to make sure that there are no other agents or bandits present, clipping his visor back on and hoisting McCree over his shoulder. If he had only passed out, it should be solvable by bringing him to Angela. 

His retreat is no less coordinated than his previous movements, though he makes sure to choose paths that won’t shake Jesse around too much while still keeping the optimal speed. There’s no telling what damage has been done, and a concussion could be worsened if he wasn’t careful. Still, it’s slow going; even with most of the bandits presumably dead inside the collapsed building, there are enough to give pause, and Genji is reluctant to give up cover just to make it to the backlines where Angela is now watching them, staff in a white-knuckled grip.

Jesse is losing a lot of blood, though, so he can’t hesitate. It’s a delicate balance; Genji does the best he can, and when he finally does make it back, the tension knotting his shoulders releases all at once as he carefully lowers Jesse to the ground. Angela kneels down next to the gunslinger a moment later, cupping a hand around the injury in question as she applies her Caduceus staff to the wound.

“He should be fine,” she says after a moment, blue eyes narrowed slightly in thought. Genji, kneeling on Jesse’s other side, stutters out an exhale in relief, one she doesn’t miss but kindly doesn’t comment on. She sighs, a moment later, and says ruefully, “So much for me keeping an eye on him.”

“It’s not your fault,” Genji says, because even now, he still looks at her and feels something stirring in his chest. 

“Perhaps,” Angela says, and now she looks miserable, just for a bit. “Still. There is a reason my suit is the way it is; I could have maneuvered in and out of there quickly enough.” She is quiet for a few moments before she gives herself a visible shake, and then her eyes gleam with steel and focus, piercing through his visor easily. “It wasn’t your fault, either.”

Perhaps not directly, Genji thinks but doesn’t say, and he hefts himself up into a crouch. He needs to go back out, harass the flanks as he usually does, and Angela gives him a nod; Jesse will be fine in her hands. He still hesitates, a long moment of uncertainty keeping him still, and finally Angela says, “Go, Genji,” and so he does.

If his motions are a bit sloppier than usual, it’s not like there’s anyone there to notice. Still, he wrecks havoc within the half-gathered group of deadlock bandits; they hadn’t been ready for the building to fall on them, and likely all higher intelligence present falling with it, so the few remaining put up a long but not difficult fight, before the Blackwatch agents manages to finally gun down the very last man shooting erratically at them. Seemed like all orders about taking hostages had been conveniently forgotten, leaving only the few Genji had managed to stow away in the nearby alleyways possibly alive. 

Following that comes the cleanup, where all hostages are bound and dragged onto the freighter, likely ending up in prison by the end of the day once all information has been extracted from them. The final cleanup of the corpses is luckily not part of Genji’s assigned role and he can finally return to his gunslinger’s side - no, not  _ his _ ,  _ the  _ gunslinger - where Angela has hopefully managed to magic him back to consciousness. 

It’s only the thought of whose hands Jesse’s life rests in that stops Genji from darting from one end of the battlefield, back to the plane, at his highest speed, but he does take a few shortcuts climbing the sides of various buildings. Time has best be saved after all. 

It’s with his nerves tingling that he finally steps back into the freighter, pointedly ignoring the stares of the other agents as he makes his way to the seats where Jesse is lying down on the floor of the aircraft, Angela beside him. Her Caduceus staff is inactive for now, resting against her lap, and she looks up at his approach.

“He’s fine,” she says. “Awake, too. Concussed, but awake.”

Genji lets out his sigh of relief in a slow, steady exhale, one that wouldn’t be noticed. Angela shifts so he can fold into the spot next to her, legs neatly crossing under his torso as he sinks to a seat, and then he leans forward to check over Jesse himself. His eyes are half-lidded, the brown irises glazed over, and his breathing is steady if a bit shallow as Angela reaches out to brush hair away from the wound. Genji’s seen worse back at his old estate, and he’s exchanging a relieved look with Angela when one of Jesse’s hands lifts and - falls onto Genji’s knee.

It’s enough to startle him, not enough to make him shift away. Angela lets out a soft, knowing laugh and pats Genji’s shoulder, and whatever reply Genji might have tossed her way is lost when she takes his hand and places it atop Jesse’s. “It will help,” she whispers, giving his shoulder one last pat before rising and taking an actual seat in the freighter. 

_ Amazing _ , Genji thinks distantly; Angela has been playing them all along. And she’s just pinned him into place, as well, and she attaches her Caduceus staff to him as she leans back into her chair with a sigh. She’s still beautiful in her exhaustion, blond hair windblown and blood spattered across her white suit, but then Genji looks down at Jesse, eyes closed now, and  _ don’t think about it,  _ so he reaches out to slip Jesse’s hat over his face. Darkness is good for concussions, he thinks, maybe, he’s not sure, but Angela doesn’t say anything and the hand on his knee squeezes, just slightly. 

He’s glad he’s not human, for once; at least he won’t get sore in this position, and with that in mind, he settles in for a wait.

* * *

Commander Reyes is furious at the whole squad when they get back, though he calls both Genji and Jesse out by name during his frenzied, Spanish-laden lecture. Genji merely hides behind his visor and drones out the appropriate responses; Jesse, having recovered somewhat from his concussion, is quiet, and Genji can tell the noise is bothering him but doesn’t know how to help.

He doesn’t know how to act, honestly. He’s - he feels it would be appropriate to hold Jesse’s hand, maybe, at this point, but he’s not in a place where he would feel comfortable doing so. And Angela is still watching them, frowning, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. She doesn’t approve of their actions back on the mission, but there’s something else she’s not saying, either, and in the end Genji just stands mutely and nods and salutes as necessary and stares as Jesse trails Commander Reyes back to his office, likely for a lecture anew.

“Get some rest, Genji,” Angela tells him before she, too, drifts off, likely to clean up and sleep herself.

For a time, Genji strays to wander the empty halls without a goal, mulling over everything that has played out up till this point. He finds it a bit ironic that both him and Jesse has been tactically manipulated by Angela so that they both would end up in this situation. Though, he supposes, there has never been any malicious intent behind the actions of the medic, possibly just the need to make the rejection from her side all the clearer. Whereas it had gone splendidly according to plan, Genji feels a bit doubtful where his friend had started to move from showing as much disinterest as possible without hurting the two of them, and gone off to try and make the whole situation appeal as much as possible to let feelings be seeded between the odd duo. 

For the fifth time, he finds that he is passing by the corridor leading to Jesse’s quarters, where he stops for a moment to think; would the other agent even be there? It was possible that he was still speaking with Commander Reyes. 

But before he permits his feet to carry him any closer in that direction, he stubbornly heads down the opposite hallway, towards where the exit would lead to the sight of the setting sun and fresh air that should hopefully help his jumbling thoughts with reassembling themselves. Also perhaps the relief of distance will help calm his heart that is still beating heavily from the panic he’d carried when rescuing Jesse. 

Finally reaching the intended destination, the sunlight gleams a gentle hue of orange and red with the setting sun starting to slowly dip below the horizon, the touch of light is soothing on his receptors and he takes the chance to seek out an ideal perch for meditating. The roof is almost always empty, despite this being both a base for Overwatch and Blackwatch agents, for reasons that Genji thinks may have to do with the local fauna, meaning birds. He’s never been one to meditate for long, and whenever he tries to do it up here, he typically wakes up with a seagull perched on his head or perhaps on his leg. He doesn’t mind now, though, finding a clean spot to sit down and folding his hands across his lap.

It’s not long before he can feel himself getting lulled to sleep; the sun is warm, he’s relatively comfortable, he can be safe in the knowledge that both Angela and Jesse are alive and whole, and while the dread of getting talked to by Commander Reyes is there, it doesn’t stop his eyes from closing as he locks his back and neck in position. Meditating almost always turns into sleeping, and he’s not worried about being caught up here. Even if he is, it would take more than a knife in the back to kill him.

He doesn’t realize how tired he is until his eyes open again, and he notes that the sun is setting. He also notes a distinct lack of birds on his person, and then he notes that he’s been covered in a red blanket. It’s a little scratchy and smells like - cigarettes, maybe? Smoky, at least - and then it hits him all at once and he turns his head to see Jesse seated next to him, legs outstretched and arms out behind him to keep him balanced. His hat is present on his head, as well as a bandage wrapping around his skull, and his eyes flick over to Genji’s the second he notices movement.

“So you  _ were  _ sleeping,” he says, glancing forward against after a moment. “I honestly couldn’t tell. You didn’t react when I came up here, though, so it seemed like a good guess.”

Genji hums. He doesn’t even realize he’s gathered the serape around himself until it’s done, and he asks, “How is your head?”

“Kind of hurts,” Jesse answers. He lifts a hand to touch the bandages, lightly. “Angel says I got a concussion, but you know how her stuff works. Like it never happened.”

_ Angel _ . Genji rarely calls her by her first name, and here Jesse freely takes her name and shortens it to something so very true. He feels like he should be jealous, but it doesn’t feel like he is. He knows envy, and the soft glow in his chest is definitely not that. (He’s not going to put a name to it, either. Not yet.) “That’s good.”

“Pretty serendipitous, I’d say,” Jesse corrects. “Fuckin’ stupid of me to step out of cover when there were that many hostiles around, but I guess it all worked out in the end.”

Genji mulls over that, just for the briefest instant, and then he turns sharply to where Jesse is sitting.  _ No _ , he wants to say, anger spiking hot and white through his gut;  _ that isn’t the proper response. What if that woman had shot just a bit more to the side? When you said to bring her into your line of sight, I didn’t think you would actually -  _

What he actually says is, voice hard and sharp, “You could have been killed.”

“That goes for you, too, Shimada.”

“I - ” doesn’t Jesse realize that he’s a  _ cyborg _ and that he’s not going to go down from that kind of thing, even if it was an assault rifle? “I wasn’t the one standing out and  _ waiting to be shot at _ .”

“Uh,” Jesse says, eyebrows rising. He’s facing Genji fully now, and Genji’s having a hard time reading his expression. “Yeah, you kinda were.”

“I can  _ deflect bullets _ ,” Genji presses. His situation is so far removed from Jesse’s, and the fact that he’s - how hard could this be to understand?

“And I have the aim of a god, and it all worked out, so we’re good.” He turns to look out at the sunset again, cutting Genji off before he can even begin. “’Sides, not like it ever bothered you before.”

_ Ouch.  _ It’s an accurate assessment, unfortunately. “It’s different now,” Genji says, the first time he’s admitted it to the gunslinger’s face; he struggles with himself, just for a moment, as Jesse glances over, and then he says more quietly, “I told you to be careful.”

“Eh,” Jesse says, throwing him a soft smile that has Genji blinking and his mind blanking. “What’s life without a little risk?”

There’s a truth in that, at least for him. For Jesse. For most of the Blackwatch agents here, where their lives have been extended only on the condition that they continue their lives of violence and crime. 

And yet.

“You promised,” Genji says quietly. Jesse stills, and when Genji snakes an arm out from under the serape, he gently touches the bandages on Jesse’s head, under his hat, just for a moment. “ _ We _ promised.”

For a long moment, nothing happens, and Genji wonders if he’s overstepped. He has no idea what exactly  _ they _ are, if they’re anything in the first place. There’s no going back, though, so he merely brushes brown hair and tucks it behind Jesse’s ear before retreating to the safety of the serape, huddling in on himself and watching the red and orange painting the sky. 

It’s another full minute before Jesse says, almost sheepish, “You got me there, darlin’,” his voice unbearably warm and fond and Genji grins under his visor, safe in the knowledge that Jesse couldn’t see.

“Don’t do something like that again.” A fruitless request, Genji knows, but it seems fitting.

“Who, me?” That coaxes a laugh out of him, and Jesse’s voice is gentle as he points out, “You know that’s our job, Shimada. All for the greater good.”

“At least when I’m around, then.”

“Well, Shimada, with any luck,” Jesse says, and now there’s a flash of teeth, “That’ll be for a long time.”

Wow. He’s a terrible flirt. As in objectively  _ terrible _ , but Genji remembers he’d done the same things back in Hanamura and it had worked, hadn’t it? Given that he can feel a tinge of warmth on his cheeks, he gathers with no small sense of disappointment that it works on him as well. Strange, to think this had all started over Angela, that it became a competition of who could be better and who  _ was  _ better, and at some point both of them realized that they were merely trying to impress each other, and now -

And now he’s sitting on a roof, alone, with a  _ really _ pretty person beside him, with the sun setting, and he is an  _ idiot _ . That will show him for not trusting Angela, honestly.

“Genji,” he says. Jesse makes a questioning noise and Genji clarifies, “You can call me Genji.”

“Genji,” Jesse echoes, low, soft, and Genji hides the shiver that runs up his spine by shifting the serape so his arms are free and the cloth is draped along his shoulders and back. “Then I’m Jesse.” Genji nods, and Jesse says to him, “Don’t suppose you’d tell me what it is we’re doing now?”

“Sitting.”

“Don’t do this again, darlin’, things are already confusing enough as it is.”

“Flirting,” Genji deadpans. Jesse is clearly not expecting him to answer so honestly, because he chokes on nothing and starts coughing as Genji adds, smug, “Also, stupid competitions. Which I won.”

Jesse pounds his chest a few times and manages to say, “I seem to recall you running into a wall.”

“And I deflected a bullet when you shot me right afterwards.” He lifts his chin. “Your point?”

“My bouquet was prettier,” Jesse says, grinning outright now, and it -  _ fuck  _ \- it looks  _ really  _ good on him, now that Genji’s actually  _ looking _ . He swallows hard.

“The flowers I chose all had special meanings. Which Angela recognized, I’d like to add.”

“Then what was the whole thing with the  _ clothes _ ?”

Genji tilts his head, slightly confused, and says, “You were the one who went up to Angela shirtless.”

“Yeah, but - you wore clothes, meanin’ that every single other time I saw you, you weren’t.”

“... And?”

“So you’re - ” And here Jesse looks away, a flush lighting his cheeks a rosy hue - “You’re never wearing clothes, that’s all I’m sayin’.”

“I’m - ”  _ Oh _ , Genji thinks, and then he smiles devilishly, aware that Jesse can’t see but knowing he can hear it in his voice. “You mean I’m always in the nude.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you just  _ had _ to say it, didn’t you.”

“Just so I could see you squirm,” Genji says, smug, and Jesse lets out a breathless laugh. He sobers a few moments later though and points out, “It hardly counts. My body is covered by armor, as you can see.”

“We’ll agree to disagree,” Jesse says cryptically. Genji gives him a long, level look, but gets no elaboration; he decides he’ll drop it, at least for now, but then Jesse says, more hesitantly, “Your face-visor thing - that also just armor?”

It takes a few moments for Genji to muster up the word, and when he does, his voice is quiet. “No.”

Jesse doesn’t ask the obvious follow-up question, thankfully. Or - maybe, Genji thinks. Angela’s seen his face, and he trusts her, and he thinks he might trust Jesse. Maybe. Probably? He thinks Jesse trusts him, and he thinks that he won’t blab about it, but - no, he wasn’t going to think about this too hard, and Jesse startles and looks over at the click and hiss his visor makes as he carefully detaches it from his head, setting it down at his feet.

There’s a sharp pang of anxiety curling in his gut. He ignores it as best he can.

The sun is blinding without his visor to filter through the rays, and he glances down at himself, blinking rapidly to adjust to the lack of electronics and other omnic things he’d become accustomed to in his new form. Jesse has yet to say anything - has yet to  _ breathe _ , actually, something Genji would find concerning if he didn’t think it was hilarious - and it’s with a slow, steady exhale that he looks over and meets Jesse’s eyes.

“You’re the second person to see this,” Genji tells him, gesturing to his face - what’s left of it, at any rate, if any parts of it aren’t covered in scar tissue and don’t have jagged edges and he hates his face, honestly, prefers the disguise of his visor over everything. “Angela was the first, obviously. Thus why... thus why I pursued her. Among other things.”

Jesse’s hand lifts, then falters. Genji, after a brief moment where he lets his nerves settle, reaches out to grasp his fingers and move them towards his face himself. Jesse is very warm, he notes with detachment, releasing Jesse’s hands when his fingers are against Genji’s cheek, and he can’t maintain eye contact for longer than a few seconds before glancing down and away, embarrassment heating his cheeks.

“Hey,” Jesse says, and when Genji looks up, he’s closing the distance and then there isn’t any distance at all and -

It’s good. Familiar, like an old friend come home, and Genji is hardly aware of the serape falling from his shoulders as he leans closer, hands coming up to rest on Jesse’s shoulders, noting that he uses chapstick. It’s soft and more of a  _ hello, who are you  _ than anything else, a tentative touch more than an exploration, and that suits Genji just fine. Not everything has to be about winning.

It’s and a slow and languid time later that they break away, slightly out of breath, and Jesse’s eyes are almost unbearably soft as their heads stay close together, and Genji’s not certain what he wants but he knows one thing for sure: this is good, whatever it is.

“Not bad,” Jesse says after a moment, grinning slowly, and Genji raises an eyebrow back and kisses him again - fiercer this time, less waiting and more moving, and Jesse’s chuckle reverberates against him and this? This is good, unexpected and unfamiliar as it may be.

* * *

“So you truly let him see you, without your visor?” Genji and Angela are sitting in the mess hall a few days later, the ninja having found the medic up and about at an hour that was plainly on the wrong side of midnight, coaxing her down to at the very least get something to eat and drink before returning to her duties. 

Genji himself is, well, better than most days, has felt like this for a while now to be entirely honest. “Yes?” Because the mess is empty, he has even taken the liberty of removing his visor at the present time, sipping carefully at a cup of tea. He doesn’t really need the substance, but it’s comfortable in a way, to do what he was capable of when he was fully human. “With the way you have been invested in our relationship, I would draw the conclusion that you’d at least expected it.” 

Angela smiles, “Well, yes, but I wasn’t so sure about this outcome.” Then her attention is diverted, as she brushes back her loose hair to press her fingers to the comm that is usually always present whenever the medic is awake. 

What comes next surprises Genji, with his friend’s smile morphing into a positively mischievous grin. “I expect those thirty credits bright and early, boys. Genji made the first move.” He almost expects himself to do a spit take, realizing that Angela had been  _ betting _ on his relationship with Jesse. Also he has a feeling that the ‘boys’ involved must be none other than Gabriel Reyes and Jack Morrison. 

He can’t hear the reply on the other side, his comm only present when he is wearing his visor and he somehow doesn’t want to hear the other end of the conversation. In all honesty, he doesn’t want to be present at all, with how his face is burning and he knows that it’s visible. He cradles his head in his hands as he half pays attention to what Angela is saying. 

Running away actually seems optional, maybe specifically to go and see Jesse so that he can hide without worry.   


Standing, Genji shoots Angela what should’ve been a glare, but likely is more prone to being a pout, which in turn, makes her laugh. He clicks his visor back on and, not running away, surely nothing of the sort, though his steps are a bit faster than his casual stroll, makes his way out of the mess hall to find his silly gunslinger. 

He’s just about where you’d expect at this time of night, in the practice range, dressed casually, with only his cowboy hat present to support his persona. Genji makes sure to make some noise entering the room, when insomnia takes a toll, he personally knows how skittish you can get. 

It reminds him of their competition, all those weeks back, and the memory of how ungraceful he’d been acting makes him chuckle under his breath while making his way over to Jesse. 

“Hey there, darlin’, didn’t expect to see you here this time of night.” Jesse holsters the gun with a last look over at the shooting targets, admiring his work. “Afraid I ain’t the best company at the moment.”

Genji stays silent, making his way over to his partner, “I did not expect you to stay the same all the time, Jesse.” And he feels a swell of something soothing when his comment makes the cowboy laugh. “I actually just came from a rather enlightening conversation with Angela.”

“Angel, huh, what she doin’ this time of night?” At this distance, Genji notices the miniscule signs, heavy crows feet, bags underneath his bloodshot eyes. 

He shrugs, worry settling in his chest at the thought of his two closest friends suffering from the same cause, “Not getting enough sleep, something I can sense you haven’t been making an effort to pursue either.” 

Jesse just laughs, trying to brush it off. “I ain’t denying it, but you know how it goes, after such a messy mission, despite little to no casualties on our side.” He points a finger to his forehead. “It rattles ya some, I’m no exception.” 

It’s a clue, somehow, that Jesse is all but fine in this very moment. Likely stuck in his own head, similar to how Genji disappears into memories when he is suffering from his worse days. And Genji takes the chance, hoping that after their hesitant kisses, that Jesse would permit him to try provide enough comfort for the cowboy to return to the present, away from the battlefield. 

At first, he just moves to stand in front of Jesse, slowly reaching up to cradle his partner’s jaw, and that is seemingly what breaks it. The gunslinger dropping his act, the one he’d undoubtedly learned to adapt at all times, and with a heavy sigh, leans down to press his forehead against Genji’s shoulder. He takes this chance to wrap his arms around broad shoulders, tangling one hand in coarse brown locks of hair as he feels the other wrap his own strong arms around Genji’s metallic frame to pull him closer. 

“You know,” Genji muses as he runs his fingers through Jesse’s unruly mane of hair, “Angela has been betting on us.”

That tickles a slight laugh out of the sharpshooter, more genuine than any of the previous, “I can’t imagine who’d like to bet with her.”

“Your commander and Morrison as far as I’m aware.” That makes Jesse lean back, shooting him a disbelieving look. 

“Reyes and Morrison?” 

“Yes.” and without further ado, Genji is pulled even closer, one hand raising to press against the side of his visor. 

“I can’t believe those three, I really can’t. Betting on our asses without us even having an inkling.” 

“ _ I  _ can’t believe they bet against Angela,” Genji says, gently releasing Jesse so he can reach up and remove his visor himself - something Jesse had tried, and failed, to do many times over. It comes off with a quiet hiss as he lowers his hand and muses, “Everyone knows she always wins.”

But what happens next is not what he’d expected, whereas Genji had thought that Jesse wanted to kiss him, he instead finds himself being lifted off the ground. Apparently his gunslinger is not satisfied with the result of the bet, and announces proudly that he will go and prove Angela wrong. 

“I totally flirted with you first,” he points out when Genji, a bit exasperated, has to ask him  _ why bother _ . “It’s not like the thing on the roof was the first and final thing, either.”

True enough, Genji supposes, but he still has to ask: “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Darlin’, if anything, I’ve learned that my plans tend to go the opposite way than I expect. Just look at lil ol’ me managing to charm your handsome self.” and with that, Jesse makes his way out of the practice range, a laughing ninja in his arms and a lot more lively than he’d been a few moments before. 

The competition is irrelevant at this point, Genji knows. The more he stares at Jesse’s face, the more certain is that, no matter what the score, he’d definitely won.

**Author's Note:**

> ahh, yes, a mythical collab. costumebleh and i switched off every paragraph, then every three paragraphs, and then every other five to seven paragraphs, which is why you can probably see stylistic differences throughout the text. also, this was originally supposed to be 3k words, haha.
> 
> that being said, both of us headcanon angela as ace in this particular fic (also in general for me. not sure about costume, though). we hope you liked this train wreck at least a little bit! we also write other stuff if you wanna check those out.
> 
> snowsheba's [tumblr](http://www.snowsheba.tumblr.com/)  
> costumebleh's [tumblr](http://www.costumebleh.tumblr.com/)


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